Chapter 6: A Lawyer's Letter? No, a Court Summons

Things were much simpler than Chen Mo had imagined.

In truth, it was just that he was still in the dark under the lamp, not quite having adjusted from the era he came from in his previous life.

Nowadays, just as Gao Li said, film and television productions copy each other all the time; it’s nothing unusual. Unlike in later times, when a successful movie often leads to lawsuits over plagiarism, causing a huge uproar.

Take the drama "Watching the Meteor Shower Together," for example. Its storyline was exactly the same as the drama Chen Mo knew from his past life—in essence, it was the mainland’s version of "Boys Over Flowers." Yet they never even considered purchasing any adaptation rights.

On the other side, in Taiwan, people were rather surprised when suddenly someone wanted to buy the adaptation rights for the mainland version of "Boys Over Flowers."

After all, these days, even if someone made a show, it was usually quite difficult to sue successfully.

And even if one did win a lawsuit, the compensation was minimal—time and legal costs made it hardly worth pursuing.

So, despite "Boys Over Flowers" being a phenomenon-level drama back in the early 2000s, many similar remakes have appeared over the years. But who has actually gone and bought the rights? None. Not a single one.

Without bothering to deal with two parties, Chen Mo directly entrusted Hongjing Law Firm to handle the negotiation for the copyright authorization in Taiwan.

Of course, the original "Boys Over Flowers" was a manga from Japan, but Chen Mo didn’t need to bother with that level of complexity; just going straight to Taiwan’s CTS was enough.

Why spend money on buying the rights?

Naturally, it was to exact revenge for the original owner. Chen Mo remembered the plot of "Watching the Meteor Shower Together," though not every detail, but that didn’t matter.

He only needed to recall the beginning part.

If he hadn’t bought the rights, then when the drama was produced, Chen Mo could never compete with Yu Youde and the company behind him in the domestic entertainment industry. Producing a drama that exactly copied the plot without rights would definitely fail.

But with the rights purchased, there was no problem at all.

Even if the opening scenes were identical, as long as Chen Mo filmed and released his version first, the other party could only suffer in silence, unable to voice their grievance.

The key was that Chen Mo held the remake rights, so he didn’t have to fear any legal challenges; he could even counter-sue.

Of course, these weren’t the main points. The real strategy was that if Chen Mo released his drama first, would anyone still want to buy the other version? Even if they did, they would definitely drive the price down to the floor.

This was Chen Mo’s plan.

In his previous life, he was a director of online films. He might not have been suited for big theatrical productions, but shooting an idol drama was a breeze.

Besides, the production quality of idol dramas these days wasn’t much to write home about.

There was another point: the drama itself had immense development value and was naturally popular, saving a great deal on promotion. The success of the previous version, despite its flaws, proved this.

Having transmigrated, Chen Mo naturally wouldn’t act anymore; wasn’t directing so much better?

The dreams he hadn’t fulfilled in his previous life, he hoped to realize in this one. But at the current stage, making a theatrical film was possible but difficult—he lacked reputation and funding, and had only been an actor before.

So he decided to start by filming an idol drama to hone his skills and build his fame, which would make future endeavors easier.

He had many project options, but fate had put him at odds with Yu Youde.

Not just Yu Youde, but the whole "Backstabbers’ Sect." Even if this first online defamation case didn’t bring them down, Chen Mo would keep planning.

An actor targeting others, especially when those people’s backgrounds surpassed his own, had little recourse. But as a director, everything was different.

Grudges must be settled, kindness repaid. Having lived a heavy life, with the conditions now, why not enjoy it?

Although the rights to "Boys Over Flowers" weren’t expensive, it was still a considerable sum for Chen Mo.

He hadn’t earned much in recent years; without fame, the company’s cut was high. So to make this drama, he definitely needed to raise investment.

There were two options. This drama didn’t require a huge budget—just a few million would do.

One was to ask his family for money, but they had always wanted Chen Mo to inherit the family business. Though persistence might get him investment, he quickly dismissed that idea.

The other was to borrow money.

From whom?

No question—it had to be from our dear Da Tiantian!

While Chen Mo busied himself arranging the loan from Da Tiantian, on the other side...

Because Chen Mo acted unpredictably, Star Entertainment suffered heavy losses.

For a talent agency, resources and connections were paramount. This time, the agreement was for Chen Mo to apologize publicly, and everyone would pretend the incident never happened.

But Chen Mo’s explosive reaction offended everyone.

The public attention on the Backstabbers’ Sect scandal had been completely suppressed. Fang Xiaoxiao and the others acted as if nothing had happened.

Not only that, they lived quite comfortably.

Only Chen Mo suffered as the victim.

And now, Fang Xiaoxiao appeared again—at the costume press conference for Yu Youde’s new drama, "Watching the Meteor Shower Together"!

She had successfully landed the third female lead. As for how she got the role, those who understood would know.

Chen Mo understood too. There was no such thing as altruism; smearing Chen Mo, even naming him directly, carried great risk for Fang Xiaoxiao, and brought her no real benefit.

Unlike Du Chun, who profited—right after the incident, he took over a male clothing endorsement originally meant for Chen Mo.

The others in the Backstabbers’ Sect were mere accomplices, trying to show off or ride the wave of attention. But Fang Xiaoxiao, the mastermind, wouldn’t do it without some gain.

That gain soon arrived.

But it didn’t take long before her smile faded.

After receiving a call, Fang Xiaoxiao’s agent’s expression changed drastically. The press conference wasn’t over before she pulled Fang Xiaoxiao aside.

“What’s wrong, Sister Mei?” Fang Xiaoxiao, still beaming with joy, looked puzzled at the sudden interruption.

“Look for yourself,” said Sister Mei, her face darkening as she placed her phone in front of Fang Xiaoxiao.

Fang Xiaoxiao was stunned.

“A court summons? What is this about?” she asked, bewildered.

“That Chen Mo has sued you. The company’s legal department is handling it, but be prepared—it’s a criminal case. Chen Mo is accusing you of online defamation!” Sister Mei said grimly.

“How could this be? Are you sure it’s not a lawyer’s letter? A court summons?” Fang Xiaoxiao asked in disbelief.

In the entertainment industry, it was common for stars to send lawyer’s letters.

But actual lawsuits were rare, let alone being sued.

And a criminal case? Though she wasn’t an expert, she knew criminal cases were entirely different from civil suits.

“It’s a criminal case, and the court has accepted it! This is serious. You need to come with me immediately. The legal department is waiting for you,” Sister Mei said with gravity.

Hearing this confirmation, Fang Xiaoxiao’s mind went blank, her legs nearly giving way. Only with her agent’s support did she avoid collapsing on the spot.